


Between Black

by Vivian



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sin & Suffering, mentions of Hashirama, mentions of Rin and Kakashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 14:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10923498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian/pseuds/Vivian
Summary: After Madara has fought the 4 Kage, he reunites with Obito in his hideout.___Did you feel me inside you,Madara asks,all those years?Yes,Obito grits out before he can stop himself.Madara’s smile widens, baring teeth. Obito swallows. He has pretended so long to be him, had been him, lived him, spokenhiswords withhisvoice—You’ve done well,Madara says.It will all be over, soon.





	Between Black

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks goes as always to my [darling](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelas) who beta'd this. ♥  
> I partly blame this on [acian0](http://acian0.tumblr.com/) who even furthers my feelings for Obito. <3

Obito feels him, even from afar. The sudden onslaught of chakra hangs like ozone in the air, a herald of thunder. Madara approaches quick as storm. He’s just fought the four Kage. The stench of blood spills when Madara enters the cavern. Obito does not turn around, does not speak. For the first time in years, he feels his mask slip. His limbs slack as if tendon and tension alike were ripped out of him. He would’ve crumbled, but Madara’s palm keeps him upright. A shivering breath escapes him. He’s almost forgotten he is not him. He is—

_It’s alright now_ , Madara whispers. The voice is Obito’s own, is not his own. Obito closes his eyes and allows the touch. He sinks back against the warm body behind him.

_You don’t have to carry the burden on your own anymore. I am here now._

It’s not the way they’ve planned. This body behind him is merely a sacrificial piece stolen by the snake Obito himself has let into their midst. And yet.

Madara’s hand slides over Obito’s back to his chest, then up. Gloved fingers curl around the edges of Obito’s mask. Madara takes it off him and tosses it to the side. It clatters to the floor. The sound echoes in the cave, tearing Obito from his thoughts. He straightens.

_All is going according to plan,_ he hisses to the dark. It’s a lie, and Madara must know it, too. He takes a step forward, away from Madara. A low chuckle behind him.

_My, how you’ve grown,_ Madara says, voice pyretic. Obito shivers. He curls his fingers and turns around. He lets out a breath he’d been unaware of holding. In the dim candle light, Madara is half in the shadow, glint of flame caught in his eyes. Fissures run over his jaw and cheek, but he is young once more, free of age, free of rot and all the earthly pains he bore when Obito first had met him. Blood is splattered all over him. Dark splotches cover his armour. Madara moves closer. His presence blackens all around him. He smiles and terror washes over Obito. Heat catches in his throat. But he does not waver, just stares. He’s taller than Madara by a handbreadth, though he does not feel it. Not here, where time twists and he is older now than Madara’s reanimated body.

_Did you feel me inside you,_ Madara asks, _all those years?_

_Yes,_ Obito grits out before he can stop himself.

Madara’s smile widens, baring teeth. Obito swallows. He has pretended so long to be him, had been him, lived him, spoken _his_ words with _his_ voice—

_You’ve done well,_ Madara says. _It will all be over, soon._

His tone spurs rage within Obito. He’s not a child anymore. He has no need of praise or reassurement. He has, perhaps, not even need of him. The thought is blasphemous, is _dangerous,_ and it impels him forward. He will not be cornered.

Madara laughs, and it’s a wild thing, just a tremble before it grows louder. Some streak of mania upon him, a berserker’s bloodlust.

It’s too late to recoil. Madara charges at him.

Obito’s back hits the wall. Air is pushed out of his lungs and pain jags through the unscarred half of his body. Madara’s hand on his throat, grip like iron. Obito squirms, but he does not use his kamui. He’s not sure why. He snarls, hands seizing Madara’s biceps, trying to wrench himself free.

_Good boy,_ Madara hisses near his ear. Obito shivers. Madara uses his free hand to trap both of Obito’s wrists over his head. A leg slides between his thighs, pressing hard. He chokes down a moan.

_How long since you’ve been touched?_ Madara murmurs, lips grazing Obito’s neck. Too long. Some whore in a far off village, night not dark enough to hide his shame. He’d disgusted himself, had disgusted her, and after that he had not done it again.

Madara lets go of his throat, using his teeth to pull off the glove of his free hand. A quick movement, cloth rips, and Obito’s robes slide from his chest to pool at his hip. Madara bends to where Hashirama’s cells twine into the jut of Obito’s shoulder. A hot tongue laps over the sensitive rim of flesh. Obito shuts his eyes and bites his lip to silence himself. Teeth close around his collarbone while fingers drag over his chest, his nipples, then back to his throat. Rush of blood loud in his ears. He can feel his cock harden against Madara’s thigh. Madara can feel it, too. Hips cant against Obito’s, heat sears through him, and he pushes back.

_Yes,_ Madara hisses.

Obito does not think, he uses the kamui to slide his wrists from Madara’s grip. He seizes a fistful of hair, pitch black in the twilight. Madara grunts, sneers, and pushes his hand into Obito’s trousers. No pretense, no play, Madara strokes him quick and dirty. A curse falls from Obito’s lips and he tugs on Madara’s hair, pulls him closer. The taste of iron on Madara’s lips, when Obito kisses him. Heat radiates off Madara, scent of sweat, of earth, of battle and blood. Something primal sparks to life inside Obito, something he has learned only by living as Madara: the excitement that comes with death. It stings him, even now, but it does not matter, not in this world.

An arm snakes around his hip. Madara manhandles him to the futon on which he sleeps in the far left corner. Madara pushes him down. He catches himself on his elbows, stares up at Madara, who now stands over him, loosening his robes. Madara frees his cock and grabs Obito’s hair.

_Open your mouth._

And Obito does. His mouth is forced wider as Madara thrusts his cock down his throat. He chokes, almost gags, he has not done this before. It’s dirty, degrading, and and yet he lets Madara use him, tries to relax his throat, tries to take him deeper. Suddenly, Madara pulls out. Obito blinks. Tears have gathered at his lashes. Blood pulses in his lips, rubbed raw. Madara stands above him, face flushed, eyes shadowed. He sinks down to Obito.

_You little whore,_ Madara says.

Obito lashes out. Madara catches his blow and throws himself on top of Obito. He thrashes against Madara, lands a punch just before Madara’s fist catches against his cheekbone. They kiss and Obito bites Madara’s tongue until the taste of copper floods his mouth. Bruises start to bloom where Madara grips him and the smell of blood is rubbed onto his skin where they touch. Obito can feel Madara’s arousal against his own. He tears at Madara’s robes and armour. Madara opens the straps that keep the armour in place, shrugs it off. Obito reaches for the shirt covering Madara’s chest, but Madara slaps his fingers away, growling, _No._

Madara rids Obito of the rest of his clothes while he himself remains dressed. Thought dissolves into touch, and Obito’s as close to oblivion as he’s been for years. The futon is hard beneath him, their grunts and moans echo within the cavern as they move against each other. At some point, Madara flips him onto his stomach. A hand in the nape of his neck keeps him down. Fingers press against his lips, he opens his mouth and sucks. Wetted, Madara retrieves them, and with one hand pulls Obito’s cheek apart while the other strokes over the crack of his ass. Obito shivers. He hasn’t done this before, either.

_How sweet,_ Madara simpers and shoves two fingers into his ass. Pain pierces Obito, but he does not make a sound. The fingers scissor him and he grabs for the sheets. Madara jams a third finger in and this time Obito cannot suppress a groan. Madara twists them and pleasure sparks. He curses under his breath.

_There we go,_ Madara says. He spits in his hand and a moment later drapes himself over Obito. His cock slides along the back of Obito’s thigh, spit-slick, while he thrusts his fingers in and out, in, out, in, out. Somewhere Obito registers the feeling of Madara’s cockhead pressing against his entrance.

A bite to his neck. Madara shoves inside.

Obito’s lips open around a soundless moan. He presses his face into the futon and takes it.

The pain is clear, ringing noise. Perhaps it should feel wrong, this. Perhaps it does.

Snap of hips, Madara pulls out almost completely before he thrusts back in. Harsh breathing. Sweat on their skin. Madara’s hand in his hair, tugging his head to the side. A kiss to his jaw. Obito leans into it, cranes his neck to capture Madara’s lips. They kiss. Obito bites Madara’s lip, their teeth clash. Madara’s tongue slides into his mouth and Obito sucks on it. Wet sounds between them, slapping of flesh, moaning. Time dissolves. They’re only bodies within space.   

_Soon this world will be no more,_ Madara murmurs as he fucks into him. _Soon there will only be…_

Madara hits a certain spot, and Obito almost cries out. Before his closed eyelids, her smiling face. He does not dare think her name. Cannot. Must not. And _his_ face, too, stupid, stupid Ka— Obito swallows the sob rising in his chest. He’s so close to release.

Madara pushes Obito’s face back into the sheets. He bites Obito’s shoulder once more where his body is fused together. Then he slides a hand beneath Obito and strokes him in the rhythm of his thrusts. Obito trembles beneath him. Does not want it. Wants it. Madara slams into him, and Obito meets his thrusts with just as much force.

_Only…_ Madara murmurs. _Only…_

Obito hears her laughter. Hears her say, _I will always watch_ —

He loses himself. For a moment, there is only blinding, pure white.

 

_Love._

 

The haze clears. Cold air on his skin. Madara slips out and his come trickles down Obito’s thigh. The stink of semen thick in the air. Obito doesn’t move, just stares. Madara sits up, hair falling over his eyes, mouth a grim line. He fastens his clothes and stands, collecting his armour from the floor. Obito feels nothing. He’s falling. He’s been falling for twenty years.

But soon, he shall be dreaming. And she will be alive. He will give her all that she wants. Even Kakashi. She will be happy. She will.

He stares at the domed ceiling, the outcroppings of stone. He does not move until the candle has burned down. He cleans himself, mechanic and without thought. Afterwards, he fetches Madara’s fan from where he’s stored it.

On his way back he picks up his mask. He puts it back on.

 

The echoes of his steps hurry ahead of him, yet Madara does not turn around nor acknowledge his presence. Madara sits opposite the wall that bears the first Hokage’s countenance. The cells Obito has guarded these past two decades. The cells that have kept both of them alive. Light spills from above, casting morning light over Madara and the wooden mementos of Hashirama, bathing them in hues of red.

Madara’s shoulders are trembling ever so slightly. When Obito comes closer, he sees that Madara is laughing. Quietly, lips stretched tight, fever-sheen to his face. Obito tosses him the fan and Madara catches it with one hand.

_It’s time we returned to the battlefield,_ Madara says.

Obito only nods.

 

Soon. There will only be—

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!  
> also check out my MadaObi [paintings](http://summeringminor.tumblr.com/tagged/MadaObi).


End file.
